The Recovery
by ImagineDragon Bastille
Summary: After a botched mission in North Korea, Natasha is captured and undergoes intense interrogation. By the time SHIELD rescues her, she seems to have been shattered by the traumatic experiences. Although physically healed, Natasha slowly mentally recovers with the help of her best friend, none other than Clint Barton.
1. Chapter 1

**Just FYI, this story takes place about 3 years before the Avengers. Review when you finish!**

"Romanoff, 30 kilometers until you're in range." Coulson's voice said in her ear.

"Roger that". She turned to face the two techies in the back seat, "Everything ready?" They nodded in reply. July in North Korea was generally not how Natasha preferred to spend her summer, but SHIELD has received intel that a group of 'visionaries' in North Korea were constructing a potentially very dangerous nuclear weapon. The two techies in the back could disarm it once they were within range.

"2o kilometers" she updated. As she looked up from her screen Natasha's eyes drew her to a glinting object directly in their path.

Her body was thrown against the side door as the grenade dismantled the hummer's structural integrity. It was as if the world had shifted at an unfathomable speed. For a moment Natasha was frozen, the center of a fracturing world. The hummer flipped once, twice. And then she felt her body whip to the ground, restrained only by her seat belt. Her head knocked something hard, sending her spiraling into unconsciousness.

The unconsciousness only remained for moments before Natasha was greeted by the pain. Her body still sat in its seat, and the hummer had landed on its side so that she was on the top. An agonizing headache had formed in her head; Natasha felt as though there was a gaping fissure opening in her skull. A bruising pain engulfed her body, making her movement stiff as she twisted to check on her comrades.

"Whitmere?" He voice had become a rasp. She looked at the driver's seat. Natasha swallowed when she saw him, a nasty gash scarred half of his head. Even if the impact hadn't killed him, he probably had severe brain damage.

She fumbled with the door. Her extremities didn't seem to respond as well as they should have, considering the amount of adrenaline pumping through her veins. The two techies were unconscious in the back. Alive or not she didn't know. Outside the car she heard some garbled words, presumably Korean. A few moments later, Natasha felt a massive force come from behind . Unsuspecting, she flew forwards as the top of the hummer was bashed in. She landed protectively her torso, but once again her head bumped into the console of the car. Dizzily, Natasha struggled into a kneeling position. Her head swam and her thoughts were fuzzy and disjointed. Natasha blinked, trying to dispel the blurriness from her vision.

The second blow cut a hole in the hummer's roof, and part of the debris caught Natasha in the shoulder. She fell back, and sank into unconsciousness. She slowly opened her eyes. As she lifted herself onto her forearms, Natasha collapsed back. Blackness began to envelop her vision, the light becoming an ever-shrinking circle.

A pounding force beat into her eyes. Natasha sat into a sitting position while trying to keep her movements to the minimum. From the way they were cutting into her wrists, zip ties restrained her hands behind her back. Natasha rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. Resoluting herself, Natasha took in her surroundings. Her findings included that she resided in a dark room, obviously a cell, and that the only light source came from behind the door. Further inspection revealed the small camera in the corner of the ceiling.

Footsteps thudded towards her cell and Natasha struggled to get into a fighting stance. But her limbs just didn't seem to be working. After some screeching from the door, light poured in, but more importantly announced the presence of three men. A rough bag was thrown over her head and Natasha was resigned to darkness. A hand grabbed her shoulder, guiding her out the cell. And on her other side Natasha felt the all too familiar feeling of a gun digging into her ribs. Her eyes strained against the darkness, searching for a reprieve from its shadowy confinement. With her eye sight compromised, Natasha's other sense became more on edge, atuned to every new development. The only sound came from their thudding footsteps. With every step Natasha felt a jolt of pain from her hip, which had been bruised when the hummer had flipped.

They men guided her through several hallways until they came to a halt. A pair of hands pushed her to into a chair. The bag was pulled off her head and Natasha was greeted by stark, unforgiving light. She blinked her eyes a few times as she tried to focus her hazy vision. A voice talked in Korean, but Natasha's scrambled brain could only decipher a couple words.

"I ask again," A man's voice spoke in accented English. "Why were you entering this sector?" Gathering her scattered thoughts, Natasha recalled that the visionaries were being shielded by a wealthy businessman.

"There was much tech supplies found in your car. Why were you trying to enter? Are you a spy?"

"I am not a spy," Natasha mumbled in English. She figured that there was no way they were going to believe that she was Korean, and so in the two seconds that she had deduced this, formulated a cover in which she was an American journalist. She just hoped that the techies, wherever they were and whatever state they were in, would not reveal SHIELD.

16 Days later

Natasha sat against the hard, grimy floor of her cell. Her head drooped to one of her shoulders. She had lost track of time; all she knew was that she had been here for a long while. Subconsciously, her forearm hovered protectively by her side, which now sported not only a gash, but also several bruises. They had taken her to the bright room on several occasions by now. She dozed off, exhausted, but never able to sleep.

 _She was in the bright room again. This time, one of the techs was there too. She took this as a good sign; at least one of them wasn't dead yet. She wasn't positive, but she estimated that they had been in captivity for about 3 days. "Who do you work for?" praying the other agent would stay silent, Natasha resolutely stared ahead, saying nothing._

 _"_ _Fine," After several more minutes of obsolete silence, the man's patience had worn thin. With a glint in his eye, he swiftly punched the techie, Natasha thought his name was Robert, in the gut. Wheezing, he doubled over. Natasha swallowed and remained silent, there was nothing she could do to help him. Even if she did reveal SHIELD, it would not stop them from further interrogations. So if they were going to go down, they might as well maintain SHIELD's secrecy._

 _Her dream shifted to later in the interrogation. So far, they had only picked on Robert, leaving her alone. Natasha shut her eyes for a moment and tried to block out the pained wheezing of Robert. With a final blow, the man struck his head, causing him to go limp like a ragdoll. Natasha was almost thankful when she heard the declaration of death after the man checked Robert's pulse. At least he was no longer in pain._

Natasha jolted awake. The nightmare had sent adrenaline pumping through her system, preparing her body to ward off the memories. She took several deep breathes. Natasha shut her eyes as she did her best to block out all the pain. By now, she was the only one left. The others had died under interrogation.

Footsteps resonated in the corridor outside her cell. Natasha instinctively tensed up and braced herself. No. They had just finished with her a couple of hours coudn't come. Not so soon after she had gotten back. They coudn't take her again. The familiar sound of the metal door opening would have made her retreat deeper into the cell, but at this point something died within Natasha. She didn't _care_ anymore. Something in her had been extinguished; she had lost the will to survive. Let them torture her. Let them cut her. But she would never give them what they wanted, even if it was the last thing she did. A great slamming noice and her door was kicked open. Natasha didn't remember much of the rescue, just bits and peices. A figure carrying her out to a medjet. Shouting and someone giving orders. The last thing she remembers before slipping into the grips of the sedation is the sight of Clint next to her, gripping her shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope you like this chapter! Remember to review when your'e finished :) I am always open to story suggestions or constructive criticism if you guys have any. Enjoy :)**

The next several days blurred together for Natasha. The sedatives and drugs she was on caused her to doze on and off throughout the day, unable to stay awake for more than half an hour. On the sixth day, Natasha had just woken up from a slumber when a figure entered her room.

"Hey Tash," Clint said. In response, Natasha stared hollowly at the wall, as if seeking something that was through it.

"She hasn't said a single word Coulson." Clint said. It was late afternoon and he and Coulson were standing outside of Natasha's room, where she slept peacefully.

"North Korea was a traumatic experience." Coulson said, shaking his head. "She was there for _sixteen days_ Clint. That's a hell of a lot of time to be held captive and interrogated for. God knows what she went through there. And the three other agents, they all died. She's the lone survivor."

"I know." Clint said "I know. She's just so _still._ It's unlike her. How's she doing?" Clint asked a passing by nurse, nodding towards Natasha.

"Physically," The nurse said, "She could be discharged in a week. But so far, she's been unresponsive to pretty much everything. If you wanted to know more, I would talk to Dr. Abel, he's been in charge of her recovery so far."

"Thanks," Clint nodded.

* * *

Clint drove back to his apartment, deep in thought. Natasha had just been so _still,_ he couldn't imagine what they'd done to her to make her like that. And whatever they did to her in North Korea, it was clearly incredibly traumatic. Natasha was one of the strongest people Clint knew, and to see her reduced to this made him wonder exactly what had happened in that god forsaken place.

He stumbled into his apartment. He had wanted to stay at Medical, as much as he hated it there, to make sure Natasha was okay, but Coulson had insisted that he go home and sleep. And despite wanting to contradict Coulson, Clint really _was_ tired. The day had been mentally and physically taxing on him. So as he locked his apartment, Clint felt his eyes drooping. Glancing at his watch before he closed his eyes, Clint realized he had been up for about 36 hours. Trying to expel all his stress and just wanting to rest, Clint tried to clear his mind, only to be met with a nightmare the moment he fell asleep.

 _He sat bolt upright in his small cot. Clint ran a hand through his hair; it had been more than four years since he'd seen his dad, and the man still managed to plague him in his dreams. Subconsciously, Clint brought his hand to the fading scar on his bicep, inflicted during that one crossroads night when he vowed never to return home. An anomaly caught his attention: the rustling of cloth. Clint checked his watch, it was 2 am; well past anyone should be up. He stood up, his feed padding quietly on the grass. He followed the noise until he saw a figure bent intently over the accounting's box. Getting nearer, he recognized the figure as none other than his brother._

 _"_ _Barney?" Clint whispered. "What the hell are you doing?" Barney spun around and for a moment, Clint could have sworn he saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes before it was replaced with his usual confidence._

 _"_ _Oh, hey man. Nettles wanted me to check the balance from the last show, he thought there was some missing… guess he was wrong."_

 _"_ _And you're doing this at 2 am… why?" Clint could tell his brother wasn't being truthful, but at the same time, he felt he didn't really want to know the truth. He had grown up idolizing his brother, the way he stood up to their dad, the way he had gotten them out of there._

 _"_ _Listen, that's all you need to know. I need to go, I'll see you later, kay?"_

 _"_ _Barney," Clint reached out and snatched a backpack from Barney. "What the hell is this?" he held out several hundred dollars._

 _"_ _I'm leaving" Barney reclaimed the backpack and began striding away._

 _"_ _You can't take all this money," Clint grabbed his brother's arm to halt him._

 _"_ _Like hell I can, and you can't stop me,"_

 _"_ _Why are you even doing this? I mean, they treat us well enough here."_

 _"_ _If I do this job right, I'll never have to work as long as I live. This one job could change my life. So let me go, I don't want to keep them waiting._

 _"_ _Who's they"_

 _"_ _Its none of your d*mn business"_

 _"_ _I'll – I'll call for help. Someone will hear and you won't get away. But please… don't do this." Barney stood still for a moment and for that moment Clint was sure he had reached his brother. Then, without warning, Barney pulled back his fist and punched Clint in the stomach._

 _A fiery pain engulfed his midsection, and when he looked back at what was Barney, Clint saw his father. And just like that, he was a fifteen year old boy again._

 _"_ _You stupid boy," He sneered, "Did you really think you could just leave me like the ungrateful bastard you are?" With Clint still on his knees, his father viciously kicked him in the ribs._

"Hullo?" Clint mumbled into his phone.

"Barton," Coulson greeted him. "It's Natasha. Physically, she's alright, but she just had a… reaction."

"Be there in 15," Clint said, hanging up as he stumbled out of bed and into some jeans. The drive from his apartment to the SHIELD base was a whirl of streetlamps and stoplights. All the while, Clint's mind was frantically trying to figure out what had happened to Natasha. A reaction…? Coulson said she was physically fine.

"What's going on?"

"The nurse came in to give her her morning meds, and she lashed out." Coulson said, leading Clint to Natasha's room. Upon arriving at her room, Clint couldn't help but take in an unexpected breath. The observatory window looking into Natasha's room had been smashed and inside the room itself, various bottles and equipment seem to have been thrown violently.

"She did this?" Clint asked questioningly.

"She must have had a subconscious response. The nurse woke her up, and Natasha wasn't expecting her and, like she's been taught to since she was five years old, defended herself. It took six of them to get a sedative injected. And that was with her in a half-awake, delirious state." Coulson explained.

"This has never happened before. So it maybe whatever happened in North Korea heightened her defense mechanisms and her first instinct is to protect herself again. Neutralize the threat and then see what it actually is. Anything or anybody that takes her unawares triggers it."

"We don't even know what happened there. She won't talk, and there are no other survivors." Coulson said.

"Hello, Agent Barton?" A tall man walked in with mocha colored hair. "I'm Dr. Abel. I've been overseeing agent Romanoff's recovery."

"So I suppose you have a medical term or diagnostic?" Clint said, gesturing towards Natasha.

"Yes," Dr. Abel gave a small laugh. "We have diagnosed her with post traumatic stress disorder and reactive psychosis. I take it your familiar with PTSD?" Clint nodded. "Well one of the effects PTSD is having on agent Romanoff is that she has reverted back into a defensive mindset, likely to defend herself first, and ask questions later."

"Has she had any nightmares or flashbacks of North Korea?" Clint asked.

"The drugs and sedatives she is on keeps her in a drowsy state. She will not experience anything of that sort while she's on them. However, once we take her off them, no one can say how severe it will be."

"And the reactive psychosis, what's that?"

"Reactive psychosis means that the patient is unresponsive, as agent Romanoff is. She has not said a word or eaten a bite. For that reason, she is getting her nutrients through there," Dr. Abel gestured to a tube disappearing into the sleeping form of Natasha. "And although the patient is unresponsive, when she is touched, she lashes out, trying to defend herself. We believe that this is a lasting effect of the… intense interrogations that she went through during her captivity. When she is taken unawares, her body takes over and defends herself before her mind can register that she is not in any danger." Clint nodded. It made sense; that Natasha would revert back into a defensive mindset. From what she had told him of the red room, they had taught at a very young age that it was either kill or be killed.

"Is she sedated right now?" Despite understanding in his brain that this was for the safety of the medical personnel as well as Natasha, Clint's heart couldn't help but protest this. Natasha had just been through an incredibly traumatizing experience; she didn't need to be sedated like a rabid animal.

"It should be wearing off soon." Without another word, Clint slipped into Natasha's room.

Natasha lay asleep for the next several minutes, and in the duration of that time, Clint couldn't help but notice that it was anything but a natural sleep. He had been around Natasha enough to know that she was never this relaxed when she was sleeping. Several minutes passed until the sedatives wore off and Natasha awoke.

"Hey Tash," Clint said softly. In response, Natasha turned away from Clint the best she could, what with her feet and hands restrained. Cautiously, Clint began undoing the Velcro straps that restrained Natasha's wrists. As he loosened the second wrist, Natasha immediately thrashed her arms, wildly throwing punches. As her mind dispelled the remaining effects of the drugs, her strikes held more precision and force until she finally freed her feet. Clint calmly took the onslaught. He had dealt with worse, if this is what she needed to do to get past this, he would let her do it. It wasn't until Natasha had him in a choke than Clint attempted to speak.

"Nat, it's me. You're safe. You're safe. You're at a SHIELD facility in New York." Clint found he had to wheeze these words, an unfortunate result of the lack of air in his lungs. Slowly, he felt her grip loosen as she relaxed. Mutely, Natasha let Clint go and settled back into the bed. Maintaining the silence, he slipped onto the small, hospital sized twin bed next to her. Although he could tell she was still on edge, over the passing minutes Clint felt Natasha relax in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**So I've decided that in this story Clint and Natasha will be like platonic soulmates. They don't want to ruin their friendship that has taken years to form with romance. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review at the end :)**

"Physically, agent Romanoff can be cleared. Her body has recovered well. We have begun taking her off the drugs that are no longer necessary. Once she is cleared, she will have weekly checkups." Dr. Abel told Coulson and Clint. "However, we are still unsure of her mental state. And this is why I am recommending that agent Romanoff have a psychiatric evaluation to assess the state her mind is in." Clint glanced at the still form of Natasha through the window.

"Agent Coulson, It says here that you are her emergency medical contact." Coulson masked his surprise. He would have assumed that Clint was her emergency contact, but now it made sense. Being partners, Natasha and Clint went on many of the same missions. Usually if she came back bumped and bruised, he did too. "Do you consent to this evaluation?" Abel continued.

"Yes," Coulson said, glancing at Clint, who did not seem to have any objection.

"Alright then. Agent Romanoff can go home, and we will alert her as to when she will have her evaluation. You can expect the notification within the week."

"Nat," Clint said, "It's time to go home. We can go back to my place." Although Clint knew Natasha had her own apartment in town, he thought it best not to leave her alone in the current state she was in.

"Alright." Clint said, dumping a bag of takeout onto the table, "One large pizza and a small salad." Still receiving no reaction, Clint took out two plates and two slices.

Natasha took a few bites of the pizza before she felt her stomach tighten. With difficulty, she swallowed the food in her mouth. Tearing her empty gaze from the edge of her plate, Natasha glanced down at the remainder of her pizza; more than three-quarters remained. Slowly, she raised the slice and took a small, tentative bite. Fighting the urge to spit it out, Natasha forced herself to swallow it. Even with the little amount of food in her stomach, Natasha felt like she was going to throw it back up.

"I… I can't eat any more." She said, pushing her plate away. Even to Natasha, her voice sounded strange and foreign. She _hated_ feeling like this. She knew she was hungry and that she needed the nutrients, having lost over ten pounds in North Korea. But she just couldn't eat. Her body had grown so used to not eating and so now eating and taking bites made her stomach want to repel the food.

"That's okay," Clint reassured, putting the remainder of her slice back in the box, honestly just glad that she had said something. "We'll put it here 'til you want it."

"How long was I there Clint?" Natasha asked, a strange look in her eyes. "It seemed like forever… but it couldn't have been more than 3 weeks."

"Sixteen days Nat. You were there for sixteen days before we found you and organized an extraction plan." A regretful, bitter note laced his words. "Sixteen d*mn days in that hell hole." Natasha nodded, a far-away look in her eyes.

* * *

 _"_ _Are you a spy?"_

 _"_ _I am not a spy," she allowed fear and innocence to lace her voice. The man slapped her in the face again._

 _"_ _Are you a spy?" Again, she denied the accusation and received another blow to her face. "Don't lie!" The man picked up a delicate silver knife and slashed her abdomen. Natasha clenched her teeth, allowing no reaction of the hot, fiery pain to reach her expression. The man pulled back his fist and struck her fresh wound. Her body contracted to protect the wound, and she sat there, unable to control her panicked breathing._

 _Her dream shifted. She was back at SHIELD, Coulson and Clint were there. Roughly, they pulled her to a room, it took her a moment to realize that this was the first room she had ever been in SHIELD: The isolated, bare cell she had been interrogated in. She saw herself sitting in there, alone and cuffed to the metal table. She knew it was herself, but she couldn't attach any emotion or memories to that person. The only person she saw was a killer. And assassin._

 _Her image morphed into the figures of two techies and the driver, mangled and bloody._

 _"_ _Why didn't you save us?" The first techie, Robert rasped. "Of any of us to survive, why did it have to be you of all people?"_

 _"_ _If anybody, you deserved to die the most painfully." The driver said._

 _"_ _I tried to - there was nothing I could've - could do," She stuttered._

 _"_ _There's nothing you_ _can_ _do but kill anything." Clint accused from the doorway. "everything you touch dies and rots away, so why haven't you?" A wave of panic and helplessness washed over her._

 _The room dissolved before and she was back in North Korea._

 _"_ _No, no." She muttered. She was strapped to the chair again. But instead of the normal interrogator, it was a faceless man. Looking more closely, Natasha could see all of the people she had ever killed morphing into focus in his face. Every victim that had ever died at her hands stared back at her while the faceless man's hands stuffed a tube down her throat. She wheezed and coughed, knowing full well what would happen next. The first wave of water hit her unexpectedly and most of it went into her lungs. Mercilessly, the faceless man water boarded her over and over again._

 _"_ _Stop, please," She tried to speak, but her voice didn't work. Although her body remained dry, water continued to pour into her lungs. She gasped for air, only to be met with more water._

"Nat, Natasha," A pair of hands shook her awake. "Wake up." Before she could fully register that it was only Clint, Natasha had a knife to his throat.

"What're you doing here?" She mumbled, still trying to free herself from the grasp of the nightmare.

"What am _I_ doing here?" Clint said, "You're in my apartment."

"Right," Natasha said, now remembering that she had spent the night in Clint's spare room.

"You okay?" He asked, concern in his eyes.

"Yeah… Well you know." Natasha said, "It was just a nightmare. Did I wake you?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Clint asked softly, completely disregarding her question.

"Almost every night I sleep," Natasha began, "I'm back there, in Korea… and It's horrible. But," She said, meeting his eyes. "Of all the agents in there, why was I the one that survived? I mean, the things I've done, the people I've killed…" Natasha said. He could almost feel the self-hatred and guilt radiating from her, "Out of anyone of those agents, I deserved to die the most. Not the young, life full ahead of him techie. So why me?"

"You can't change what you did in the past Natasha." Clint began, "There's nothing you can do about that. The only thing you can do is change your future. And I for one think you've gone straight, you're trying to make the world a slightly better place. And for why you survived? You are a survivor. You survived the red room. You survived that one mission in Bangkok, remember that? You survived North Korea. You're a survivor Nat. Whatever curveball life throws at you, you can handle it. You've made it this far, and… You can make it threw whatever life throws at you next."

"Thanks," Natasha murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

"And for what it counts for," he continued. "You're going to have deal with me for a long while because I'm not going anywhere." At this, Natasha gave a wan smile.

Per an unspoken agreement made by the pair seven months ago, Clint stayed with Natasha the rest of the night. In the aftermath of a fateful mission in Peru, Natasha and Clint mutually agreed to never leave the other after a nightmare. And so they fell back asleep together, wrapped in each other's arms, helping dispel any nightmares the other might have.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hello miss Romanoff, I'm Dr. Collins," Natasha sat at the very edge of her chair, not even bothering to hide her discomfort. "I'm not going to force you to tell me anything. To be clear, you have the choice to not answer any of my questions if you want to. How have you been feeling?"

Natasha bit down a scornful laugh, "Just great."

"How much do you remember of what happened in Korea?"

Natasha looked up and looked straight into his eyes, " I remember every single minute of it. I remember being tortured relentlessly. I remember them dying right before my eyes and there being nothing I could do about it. I remember every single punch and every single wound I received. I remember it all." Collins nodded, a deep look in his eyes.

"What was it like, in there?" Collins asked.

"It was hell in there, so forgive me if I don't recount every single detail that happened to me in there for you to hear and me to relive again." Natasha said coldly.

"Sometimes it's better to tell someone about it,"

"I dunno about that… All you need to know is that when you didn't answer their questions, there was a not so pleasant reward."

"What did they want to know?"

"They wanted to know if I was a spy, and who I worked for. I'm not sure if they ever found that out, questioning the others, but if the others did spill the beans, that sure as hell didn't stop them from asking me over and over again."

"How have you been sleeping?" Collins asked, changing the subject completely.

Natasha stiffened slightly, so that none other than a trained professional would have picked it up.

"Every single time I close my eyes, I'm back there, reliving it over and over again, how do you think I've been sleeping?"

"Right,"

2 Hours later

"What's your evaluation of her?" Fury asked.

"Agent Romanoff went through quit a traumatizing experience. She's sarcastic and cold, probably because that's her defense mechanism." Dr. Collins said. "You know that anything she told me in there is confidential,"

"I am fully aware of that, I just want to know how she is doing, Dr. Collins." Fury replied.

"Really, I don't think she anywhere near ready to go back into the field. She's getting over what happened In Korea, and that will take -."

"I'm not talking about the agent part of her, I'm talking about the human part of her Dr. Collins. How is she doing?"

"I think on top of moderate PTSD, she's also suffering from survivor's guilt. She wants to know why _she_ made it out, and none of the others did. She feels that they should have survived, not her. And this is common, even understandable, considering the life she's lead, to feel survivor's guilt. Not only does she feel the weight of her fellow agents that died out there, but she feels the weight of all those that have died at her hand. She's handling it alright I think. Like I said, she's sarcastic and cold, but I think that she'll be her normal self again soon."

"You clearly don't know Romanoff, cold is about the warmest she gets."

Dr. Collins gave a small smile, "And she's tough. I'm confident she can get through this. So my prescription is just to give her time away from the job an allow her to rediscover herself."

"Thanks you Dr. Collins."

Clint woke up at an early 3:00 am. He and Natasha had decided to crash at a SHIELD base in one of the standby rooms, generally reserved for agents who were on duty and had to be present at a moment's notice, but needed rest. He and Natasha had taken to just spending the night there some weeks; the longest being 12 straight days, which was, needless to say, a very hectic time for SHIELD. They had deemed standby room 8B theirs. Many rumors had circulated the ecosystem of SHIELD on numerous occasions that Clint and Natasha were romantically involved. There weren't. The first time said rumor reached their ears, both had promptly put an end to it. By now, however, it had come and gone so many times that neither really cared anymore. Clint and Natasha had a sort of symbiotic relationship. After the first bumpy few years, the pair had formed a trust like no other. Clint depended on her and Natasha depended on him. It wasn't that they shut down and didn't function when the other was gone; no, it was that they were the ultimate team when they worked together, predicting each other's next action and rarely needing words to understand what the other was thinking. SHIELD had long since realized this and so together, Natasha and Clint formed strike team Delta.

Despite the fact that his general job description entailed him to have the capability to be awake and alert at a moment's notice, Clint was a man who savored his sleep. Blearily, no imminent danger evident, Clint wondered what in the hell could have woken him up at the ungodly hour of 3:00 am. The question to his question was found in the empty bed next to him.

He found Natasha in one of the shooting ranges, killing the poor dummy three times over.

"I think he's dead." Clint understated, "How many kill shots was that?" He peered closer at the dummy and whistled. "Seven out of ten."

"Six," Natasha said.

"No, see, that one hit his liver. I'd give him approximately 5 minutes 30 seconds before he bled out. It takes the average ambulance six minutes to arrive. Even if he did apply pressure to staunch the blood flow, the chances of him surviving are less than 16%."

"Yeah," Natasha said, "It used to be 9 out of 10."

"Well, in your defense, it has been about 2 weeks since you were cleared by Medical, not to mention the time… over there." Clint said. "You need to be easier on yourself Nat. You need time to heal, you can't rush the process."

"I know…I know." Natasha said, momentarily releasing her frustration on a punching bag. "It just seems like that's the only thing I can control. I can't control my head anymore Clint," She looked at him, a wild look in her eyes.

"Everywhere I look, I see things, places, even people that remind me of Korea. I walk down the hallway and I see the interrogator, but I know it can't be true because I've worked with that agent for five years now. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there, tied to that chair. I can't sleep at night, not without nightmares anyway, so I might as well spend that time doing something that I _can_ control. I know I lost at least 10 pounds over there, most of it being muscle mass, and I want to gain it back and return stronger than before." Natasha slowly lost her momentum and simmered down. "I guess… I can't control my mental recovery, I know that that'll take time, but I know that I _can_ control my physical recovery, and so I'm going to come down here every day until I'm even better than I was before."

"Okay, okay." Clint said. "But, you also need to rest Natasha. Your body needs sleep to heal too."

"I don't want to close my eyes." Natasha said, shaking her head.

"It'll be okay. I'll be right next to you and wake you up if you start having a nightmare. Trust me, I know." Mentally, Clint cursed himself for not keeping a closer watch on Natasha these past two weeks. They had mostly slept in the same room, and he thought that would be okay. But he had momentarily forgotten that it was the Black Widow who would wake up from the nightmares in the bed next to his. And if she wanted to, Natasha could feign sleep like no other.

The halls were eerily quiet as they made their way back to 8B. Save the constant humming of machines, the sector they were in was dead silent.

Seeing Natasha's uneasiness at the prospect of having nightmares, and Clint couldn't blame her, having to face his on numerous occasions, he looked at her dead in the eyes and told her, "Everything, is going to be okay."


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's chapter five! Hope you guys like it, don't forget to review and tell me what you think when you're done :)**

Two weeks later

 _"Don't lie," The force of the strike whipped her head for around. She had lost count of the times they had taken her and asked her if she was a spy and who she worked for._

 _"Fine," The presumed leader nodded to the interrogator. "Fine, do it; this one's a tough one to crack." Her eyes darted from one man to the other. The interrogator delicately selected a small, silver knife from his array of tools of... Persuasion. Roughly, he grabbed her gritty, red hair and twisted her head to the side, exposing her neck._

 _"Careful," The boss said._

 _"I know what I'm doing." With the ease of an artist, he began carving a design into her skin, behind her ear._

 _Her breathes grew quick and panicked. It had never been a design before. Blood trickled down her neck, almost tickling her. The blade continued to cut into her skin, and she closed her eyes, blocking out the memories. This was too similar to what it had been. But you can't shield memories, even ones locked away in a little corner of your brain, from your subconscious. And so all of a sudden, she was back in the Red Room._

 _Her body shifted positions, and instead of sitting in a chair, she was strapped on to her stomach on a table._

 _"This is a great honor, Natalia," The Madame praised. "You have been one of the few selected to continue training." A moment later, a searing pain engulfed her neck. She knew better than to display any signs of pain, of weakness. The searing pain seemed to continue on for a lifetime, but couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes._

 _"What did you do?" She whispered once it was over._

 _"See for yourself." The Madame held up a small mirror and in the reflection, she saw a small hourglass seared into her skin at the base of her neck. She had never, in her countless years in the Red Room, felt so helpless and out of control. They had branded her. She didn't want this mark upon her skin; all it did was remind her of how she belonged to the Red Room, and always would._

Natasha sat up in her bed, a knife clutched in her hand. It had been five weeks since she had returned from Korea, and these nightmares still always left her confused and disoriented. She had spent the night in her own apartment. She appreciated how much Clint had done for her, but Natasha felt she needed to overcome this on her own. The aid of her best friend helped, but it at the same time was _her_ who had to recover. She needed to conquer her demons on her own. Because after all, nothing was permanent in this wicked world. And at the end of the day, all she had was herself. Taking several deep breathes, Natasha sat out of her bed. She had her own routine; this wasn't the first time she had been plagued with nightmares.

The synthetic punching bag swung on its chain. Natasha checked her watch. It had been a good three hours since she had woken up, and the sun hadn't even risen yet. Natasha gave the bag a final, frustrated punch. She could tell she was weaker, and it annoyed the hell out of her. It had been nearly three weeks since she had been cleared by Medical to began rehabbing, Natasha had been at the gym nearly every day, and spending an estimated 24 hours a week rehabbing and training. Physically, The only thing that had been seriously injured had been a severely dislocated shoulder, a twisted ankle, and a deep gash in her abdomen that had become infected.

"Hey, thought I'd find you here," Clint called from the other side of the gym.

"What're you doing here? It's not like you need to rehab."

"Coulson said he wanted me to monitor the networks today, apparently there's been more noise than usual." The networks, a program that SHIELD initiated, monitored the activities of certain organizations and individuals that were suspects for terrorist activities. "Why're you here so early?"

Natasha shrugged, "Couldn't fall back asleep, so I came here."

Clint nodded, "If you ever want to crash at my place, door's wide open." Natasha smiled at his back as he walked out. She really did appreciate how he had helped her those first couple of weeks. When she had first returned, she didn't want to talk at all. She had just sat, still. It was as if her thoughts had been barricaded deep within her mind, unable to be reached. But thinking back, she hadn't really wanted to talk, or to think for that matter; she had just wanted to be left alone by everything and everyone, including herself. But then she had begun speaking, and it had all become easier since then. The nightmares still plagued her and somethings still reminded her of Korea, but Natasha felt better. Checking her watch, she sighed. If she wanted to take a shower before her session with Collins, she had to leave.

"Hello Ms. Romanoff, how are you doing today?" Dr. Collins asked. After her initial psych evaluation, Natasha had weekly sessions with the doctor. This being her third time, she was more or less accustomed to the general questions he asked.

"Better," She admitted, after the disastrous first session she had resolved to actually tell him the truth. If she really wanted to recover, perhaps Dr. Collins could actually help. After all, he was a trained psychologist who had been recruited by SHIELD, according to his file that she had hacked several days earlier.

"How've you been sleeping?" He meant the nightmares.

Natasha shrugged, "Alright. Lately I've been able to sleep an hour or so more than usual, so that's a good sign right?"

"Yes, that's a very good sign. It means that the memories of what happened are starting to fade.

"Doesn't stop them from being so vivid," Natasha said bitterly.

"You don't have to recount what happened yet, I've suggested to the Director that he wait to schedule your debriefing, but I can tell you're opening up a little, so... what exactly happened over there? Remember, you don't have to tell me, but sometimes the nightmares keep happening because their suppressed inside of you, un-talked of and rarely thought of; sometimes talking about it helps release them. Have you told anyone of everything that happened? Even if its not me, I think it would help" Natasha shook her head in response.

* * *

Four hours later

Natasha sat in his squishy couch, waiting for Clint to return to his apartment. After mulling over Collins's advice of telling someone, she had broke her way into Clint's apartment to await his return. He had given her a key to his apartment several years ago, but she had long since lost it, not that the key's absence stopped her from getting in. Several minutes later, Natasha heard the jingling of keys; Clint was home. The locks slid out of place and she heard the morion pause for a moment. Then, the door swung open and, hearing his quiet footsteps, rolled her eyes. Clint rounded the corner, a gun drawn and his shoulders tense.

"Nat," He said, lowering his weapon and stowing it away, "What're you doing here?"

"I talked with Collins today," She began. "He said that maybe one of the reasons the nightmares aren't going away is because their suppressed in me. So he suggested I talk to someone about Korea."

"Okay," Clint said, pulling up a nearby chair and settling into it. Natasha attached her gaze to the floor, her stare penetrating it through the countless levels and sublevels of the building, "A grenade hit our hummer, at least, I think it was a grenade. Everyone was knocked out from the impact, except me." Natasha began quietly.

"yeah?" Clint prompted quietly after several moments of silence.

Natasha cleared her throat, still avoiding his eyes and zoning out, "It was probably from them. Anyways, they rammed the hummer so that they could see who was inside, and I was knocked out. I remember..." Natasha trailed off.

"I remember I woke up in a cell, it was grimy and dark and cold. Then they came for me. I guess they didn't know if we were attached to an organization or not, and they kept asking me if I was a spy and who I worked for. There was the leader, they called him just the Boss, and then there was the interrogator. He... he was a horrible man Clint. I mean, I've encountered some pretty twisted people, but he's on a whole other scale. The interrogations, they were..."

Natasha struggled to find the right word, "intense. In the Red Room, they taught you to ignore the pain, to push it away, so that's what I did. But then they killed Robert right in front of my eyes. There was nothing I could've done," Natasha said, a wild look in her eyes, "He must've had considerable brain damage, so that when they punched him in the temple, he died. And by then the others were dead too. From what I gathered from them, the driver, Mayers, was killed shortly after the grenade hit us, and the other techie died under interrogation. But the interrogations, once it was just me... were horrible. They sliced a design into the skin behind my ear Clint." Natasha said, finally meeting his eyes. When he looked at her more closely, he saw that she was shaking.

And at that moment Clint fully understood how much Natasha had gone through in Korea. She had told him how the Red Room basically branded her, and he knew that she had _hated_ it. The tattoo was long since gone, but he knew that she still resented it. This was too close to home for her. The fact that they had cut a design into her so that it would always be there, a scar to remember one of the worst times in her life... that was inhumane. "Do you know what it was of...?" He asked gently.

Natasha shook her head, "Do you really think I want to see what they carved in to me?" After a moment, she pulled back the hair behind her left ear and bent her head. Clint swallowed. It was a mark he had never seen, probably the insignia of the visionaries or something similar to it. The skin behind her ear was still agitated; the cuts, although beginning to scar, were still red and angry.

"What else did they do?" Now, his voice was hardened and carried an angry, almost protective tone.

Natasha swallowed, "Just cuts and bruises." With all said and revealed, Clint wrapped her in a hug. In his embrace, Natasha instinctively tensed slightly, before relaxing and burrowing her head in his shoulder.

"I am so sorry this happened. In all the people in the world, God knows you've gone through enough sh*t to last three lifetimes." He whispered in her ear. "But you know what?" He continued, "it's because you can handle it. You've gone through hell and back and have survived. I'm so so glad you're my best friend Natasha Romanoff."

"I'm so glad you're my best friend, Clint Barton." Natasha answered back.


	6. Chapter 6

In the seven weeks since Natasha had returned, she had made a remarkable recovery. After opening up to Clint, the nightmares were never as bad. Her PTSD slowly faded into a memory as Natasha continued her sessions with Dr. Collins. Sure, she still occasionally saw something that triggered her memories, but those occurrences came about less and less. Even her physical recovery was coming along quite well, although her enhancers considerably speeded that along. Her shoulder was nearly back to its full strength and her ankle could support a both full sprint and blunted impacts. The only thing hindering Natasha's physical recovery was the gash in her abdomen that had become infected due to lack proper sterilization when the wound was inflicted. The stitches had held well, but the infection caused the skin around the wound to become red and tender.

* * *

"Sir, we have a location on Rhee. A traffic cam picked him up in Taiwan, he's in Taipei." An agent called out to Fury.

"Let's get a team on the ground and bring him in." Fury ordered. "Remember, this is strictly a retrieval mission, we need answers, and he's got them. Coulson, page Barton, I want him in on this."

"On it." Coulson sent the requested agent the alert. Not twenty seconds after Coulson sent the alert, Barton called him.

After several moments of listening to him rant, Coulson cut in, "First of all, I know this is your day off, as you so duly pointed out, and Romanoff hasn't been cleared for field work yet, and so I'm fairly certain that the important something your in the middle of is some petty bet one of you challenged the other to." At his, Clint protested, but again, Coulson cut him off, "Clint, we're going after the man who we believed ordered Natasha to be interrogated in Korea. We've been trying to find him for the past some-odd weeks, and this is a short window of opportunity that we need to capitalize on. Fury wants you on the ground for this one."

Barton promptly ceased his protests and responded with a short, "Be there in ten."

Several minutes before this Barton, it so happened, was currently in the process of buying a dozen donuts, on the pretense that Natasha had offhandedly claimed that 'there was no way you can eat dozen donuts in under 60 seconds Barton'. Fortune seemed to be on his side as Clint had coincidentally arrived at Dunkin Donuts during happy hour: 2 to 3:30 pm on Tuesdays. Obviously this was a premonition that he was going to win this bet. So Clint, unaware of a mission alert coming his way any minute now, drove back to his apartment where Natasha waited with a bemused expression on her face.

"Ha, we'll see who's wrong now," Clint opened the door with gusto.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Yeah yeah, you're all talk." Resolutely, as he was a man on a mission, Clint sat and opened the box to reveal 12, perfectly glazed donuts.

"Hold up a sec," He said, pulling out his phone and reading the words: Mission alert: report to base at 1600. Clint frowned. This was his day off. Natasha watched as he dialed a number, six digits, so obviously Coulson.

"Coulson," he said. "I'm in the middle of something right now and its my day off, so why did I just get a mission alert? Every now and then us field agents do actually get time off, so why-" Coulson obviously cut him off as he fell silent. "It was not a stupid bet! Natasha-". Once again, his protests were cut short. Natasha watched as Clint expression slowly morphed into one she only saw when he was on a mission. "Be there in ten." He said.

Turning to Natasha Clint explained, "Sorry Nat, I have to go, mission."

"Its your day off."

"This is really important."

Natasha stared at his expression for several moments before saying softly, "You're going after one of them aren't you? I heard Hill and Coulson talking about it a couple of days ago."

"We didn't want to tell you because, well, because its too close to you Natasha." Clint said. "You know it's never good to go into a mission emotional."

"I'm going." Natasha said firmly.

Ten minutes later, both agents Barton and Romanoff strode into the base.

"Sir, I would like in on the mission." Natasha said to Coulson.

"You haven't been cleared to go in the field yet." He said, "And even if you were, this is too personal for you Natasha, there's no saying what you would do. We need answers and locations and we need him alive."

Natasha stared at him right in the eyes, "Trust me, I am perfectly capable of separating my emotions form my work Coulson. And as for my physical state, I'm not asking to be on the ground, just as back up."

Coulson read Natasha's resolute expression and knew that she would not so easily give up. He had seen this expression before, right before she had ignored direct orders and jumped into a burning building to save some trapped civilians. "Fine," He relented, "You can be the eyes on top." Natasha nodded in response and strode into the waiting quinjet.

"Managed to talk Coulson into letting you come I see." Clint said as she strapped herself next to him.

"What, did you doubt my persuasion skills?"

Clint shrugged in response before replying, "You sure you're going to be okay on this op?"

"I'm still in this quinjet." Natasha answered.

"Well you won't be able to change your mind once were in the air."

Natasha made a show of getting comfortable. "I'm not even going to be on the ground."

"Team one in position, target is walking towards us."

"Copy that," Coulson responded. "Team two?"

"In position, tailing target," Came the answer.

"Team three in position. Ready to engage." Barton answered.

"Romanoff?"

"In position, I have eyes on the target." Natasha reported.

"Alright," Coulson said. "Team three, wait until the target is between those two buildings to engage."

"Copy that." Within the span of several steps, Rhee was sandwiched between two tall office buildings.

"Team three engage." Coulson ordered. The three agents comprising Team Three, one of whom was Clint, immediately closed the gap between them and Rhee. As if they were part of a well oiled machine, Team Three restrained surrounded Rhee and had placed cuffs on him. As they made to escort him to the extraction point, a shot rung out and one of the agents fell to the ground.

Time seemed to slow down as the sudden turn of events unfolded under Natasha. Almost before the bullet hit the agent, Natasha was scanning the rooftops. A shadowy figure stood in one of the windows three buildings away from her, a rifle in his grasp.

"In pursuit of the sniper." Natasha said, leaping onto the building adjacent of hers.

Amidst the adrenaline of the chase, Natasha forgot all of her aches and pains. Within a minute she had reached the rooftop of the building. A second shot rang out, and Natasha prayed that no one was hit. Although there was a chance someone was hit, this was a good sign for Natasha because that meant the sniper wasn't aware of her yet. She swung open the door to the rooftop and descended to the same level as the shooter. She crept through what seemed to be an abandoned work place and silently swung open the door to reveal the sniper. His back was turned to her, and he seemed to be re-aiming from his last shot.

In the red room Natasha had been forced to learn how to always keep part of her attention focused on her surroundings. Unfortunately for the shooter, he had not received the same intensity of training as she had, and thus failed to notice her presence until she was within a yard of him. Before he could react, Natasha kicked the rifle from his grasp; the momentum of her blow caused him to whirl back towards the open window. He barely managed to catch himself from tumbling head over heels out of a seven-story window. Natasha roughly grabbed him and made to cuff his hands behind his back. Before she could get his second hand restrained, he twisted and elbowed her in the gut, grazing her newly healed wound. Natasha let out a small breath of surprise before twisting the shooter's shoulder to the point of near-dislocation. Frozen by the pain and his fear for the well-being of his shoulder, the shooter made no more attempts to free himself as Natasha proceeded to restrain his hands.

"I have the sniper in custody." Natasha said. During her altercations with the aforementioned shooter, she had blocked out the voices and noises from her comms. "Coulson?"

"Romanoff," Coulson said, his voice terse. "Have you taken out the sniper?"

"Yes sir, I have him restrained." At this moment, the man, seemingly wanting to prove Natasha wrong, suddenly bolted towards the open door. With his hands behind his back, Natasha quietly thought he resembled a waddling duck that had too long legs to suite him. Throwing the thought aside, Natasha swiftly drew her handgun and pulled the trigger. The man collapsed on the ground, curled in pain. Natasha sighed. The pain shouldn't be _that_ bad, she had only shot him in the calf; he wouldn't be running anytime soon, but at least she hadn't killed him.

"What's the situation down there?" Natasha asked Coulson.

"Absolute pandemonium. We have two agents down, but luckily there were no fatal shots, they should be okay. The public is screaming and running around like a chicken with its head cut off, so local law enforcement is bound to be here any minute. We need to move out." Coulson said.

"Moving to the extraction point." Natasha reported.

"Copy that," Coulson said. "All teams, move out with the target."

"She wasn't even cleared for active duty!" Fury exclaimed. "Protocol is there for a reason, Coulson, and we can't just go around throwing it away." Coulson and Natasha stood in Fury's office, calmly taking his rants. "Agent Romanoff is still recovering from her injuries, and that mission could have made it worse."

"Sir," Coulson said. "Two agents got shot today, luckily no one died, but who knows what would have happened if Romanoff hadn't apprehended the shooter. Yes, I know that she's not cleared for field duty, but she saved an untold number of deaths today. It could have been a massacre, but she stopped it."

"Fine, there will be no consequences," Fury snapped, "But until cleared, Romanoff is absolutely not going back into the field. We need her to make a full recovery, and she can't do that if she's constantly going into the field."

Natasha stood so silently that both Fury and Coulson nearly forgot she was present at all. "What's going to happen to Rhee?" she asked.

"We'll interrogate him and find out how they were operating." Fury said. "But first, we need you to positively identify him. He's currently being kept in cell 4a." Natasha nodded and walked out. Looking through the two-way mirror, Natasha gazed at the man who had tormented her for sixteen days. Locked up and in cuffs, he didn't look near as intimidating or threatening as he did in Korea. Natasha looked at him, a flood of memories trailing through her thoughts. This was the man who had ordered her to be tortured. This was the man who had watched as they cut her and bruised her and d*mn near broke her. This was the man who had caused her to have nightmares for nights on end. Natasha swallowed, repressing the urge to go in there herself and repay him. He would get his time. He would suffer. By her hand or not, she would make sure he felt the same pain she did.

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to review- it only take about 10 seconds, and means so much to me :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I once saw this quote about scars and wounds that really resonated with me, it went like: Never be ashamed of a scar, it simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you. I just thought I would tell you guys because I really think that goes with this chapter, enjoy :)**

She surveyed his stance; he shifted his weight to his back foot and Natasha knew a kick was coming. No sooner had she predicted this than Clint's leg came whirling her way. Natasha did a neat roll backwards is to avoid the blow, and landed several feet from him. Still on the offense, Clint rushed towards her with a roundhouse punch. Natasha blocked his strike, but continued his motion. Spinning with the circular motion of his body, Natasha swept his feet from underneath him. Unfortunately for Natasha, Clint kept hold of her and she flipped over him, landing on her back. She stood up, taking note of his position.

Natasha jabbed at his short ribs, but he blocked the attack by parrying her fist and twisting her wrist. Natasha sidled closer to him and kicked out his knee from underneath him. Clint's knees buckled and his grip on her momentarily loosened; Natasha capitalized on this and pried her hand free. Clint regained his balance and retaliated with a punch to her temple. Although it had been several weeks since Natasha had sparred or fought anyone so intensely, she still managed to step out of the strike's range and put Clint into a wing-constriction. With his arms useless, Clint suddenly dropped his weight and rolled over his shoulder, which caused her to roll on top of him, but more importantly, release her grasp on him.

The pair continued to spar for several minutes, both heavily breathing and perspiring from concentration. Finally, the match ceased when Clint had Natasha in a air-tight headlock. After feeling Natasha struggle for several moments and knowing from past experiences that holding on too long would not be pleasant, Clint relinquished his grip. Natasha took several deep breathes, an extremely discontented look covering her face.

"It's okay Tash," Clint said. "You'll get back to where you used to be in no time. You can't go from being 0 to 100 in a day, it takes time."

"I know," Natasha said, letting the slightest of frustration lace her tone. "You keep telling me that, its just that, I _know_ I'm better than this, and its just so d*mn frustrating that I can barely last ten minutes now, when we used to be almost even."

Clint gave a small laugh at this. Natasha had always been better than he was at close-quarters, hand to hand combat, whereas his specialty was in long-distance shots. This diversity in specialties is what helped make them so successful as partners. "I guess I'll have to enjoy this small amount of time while I don't get my *ss kicked by you." He joked. Natasha gave a small smile, but he knew she was still frustrated.

"Ugh," Clint said, checking his watch. "I have to go, Coulson said he still wants me to monitor the networks." Natasha stayed in the gym for another half hour after Clint left, taking her frustration out on a punching bag. She just felt so _weak_ compared to how strong she used to be.

Back in her apartment, Natasha stood over her sink in the bathroom. After splashing her face with water, she took a towel and wiped all the liquid off. Part of her curls stuck to her head, and Natasha glimpsed the scarring skin behind her ear. Swallowing, Natasha took another mirror and for the first time, saw what they had done to her.

In a small area behind her right ear, a small symbol was scarred into her skin; a permanent reminder of how she had been broken. The symbol itself resembled at lower case 'h' with a line crossing above the curlicued tail. Natasha repressed a shudder of horror. How could they have done something so horrible? Had all their humanity been sucked out of them? Upon closer inspection, Natasha felt the sensation that she had seen this symbol before. It was like word that was tantalizingly close, but no matter how much Natasha reached into the depths of her memory, it always danced a little bit further.

It wasn't until several hours later, when the sun had already begun its descent, that Natasha realized what the symbol had come from. She had seen it in some astronomical, 'see what the heavens have in store for you' type of store several months ago. Not really sure if she wanted to know, Natasha opened her laptop and began searching for the symbol. After perusing through many astronomy-related images, Natasha finally found it. It was the symbol of Saturn. After reading an article on the symbolism of Saturn, Natasha felt slightly sick. According to all the sites she visited, Saturn basically represented the concept of ruler ship, owner ship, and all the likes similar. Natasha shut her eyes for a minute. They had wanted to _own_ her. Control her. Natasha felt her body began to shake and she pushed the laptop away from her. Nobody controlled her. No matter who the h*ll they were. After the initial feeling of horror and disgust, Natasha felt a surge of anger.

She continued scrolling through the site until something caught her eye. Apparantly, Saturn's symbol also represented transformation and potential. This especially piqued Natasha's interest. Reading more, Natasha couldn't help but shake her head in the irony. They had meant to brand her, to remind her that they would always control her; but really, after researching it, the symbol represented how much she had transformed from a cold, heartless killer to someone trying to fix their mistakes and make the world a better place. Because although the symbol usually connoted ownership and submission, it also reminded her of how she had gone straight, how she was trying to mend her past mistakes.

After letting this sink in for an hour or so, Natasha resolved to interpret the scars behind her ear as a reminder of how far she had come. This battle wound wouldn't be of how she had been broken, no, it would be of how even though she _had_ been broken, she had found it within herself to stand up again, stronger and taller than before.

* * *

"-I mean you said yourself that this could make her mental condition worse." Cousin reminded Fury.

"I know, but I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think she could handle it." Fury replied. "Romanoff's tough and I think she can do this. She can say no, but knowing her, I doubt she will. And honestly, we need someone with her skills on this one."

"I'll call her up then." Coulson said.

"Romanoff." Natasha answered in her no nonsense, work voice.

"You at the base?" Coulson asked.

"No, but I can be there in 15."

"Good, see you in the Detention Level." With that, Coulson hung up.

"What's going on?" Natasha asked as she arrived on the scene.

"Agent Monroe has been interrogating Mr. Rhee for over 3 hours now,with no results."Fury said. Natasha nodded, beginning to understand what this was about. "We need results. You haven't been cleared for field work yet, but according to Dr. Collins, your psychologically ready to do this. You have the option to say no, but will you take point on the interrogation?" Fury requested. Natasha swallowed, considering.

"Natasha," Coulson said, "You don't have to do this if you feel your not ready to. The man cuffed to the table in there did terrible things to you. If you can't maintain a clear head and keep him from getting under your skin, because he will recognize you and he will try to exploit your weaknesses, then we can't have you in there."

"I will be fine." Natasha replied, a small spark in her eyes."Now what is it you want from him?"

"Names of people in their operation, locations, who's funding them, where else they're based, what their planning."

"Got it." Natasha said, making to open the door leading to her former tormentor.

"Natasha," Coulson said, "If we feel that things are getting out of control, we will pull you out." Natasha gave a slight nod of her head before disappearing through the door.

 **Hope you guys liked it! Kind of a short(ish) chapter, but hopefully I'll update within the next day or two. Anyways, review and tell me what you think - I really enjoy seeing how you guys like it, and it doesn't take that much effort on your part :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Natasha paused at the doorway for a moment, composing herself; after all, the man she was about to see when she walked through would undoubtedly bring up memories she would rather not think about. Although the Red Room had manipulated her into a heartless assassin, it had also taught Natasha to push away all emotion and focus on the task at hand, a skill she had utilized countless times. Nothing mattered but getting the information she had been tasked to retrieve. The man in the room was just another person who had information she needed.

"Hello Mr. Rhee, I believe you have some information we would like to know." Natasha began before he even saw her.

"Like Hell I'm going to give up any-" Rhee stopped mid sentence as he caught sight of Natasha. "Well, I see you've made a full recovery." He said, after the initial shock wore off. Natasha gave a heartless smile in return. "And here I thought we had broken you," He continued.

Natasha tilted her head, "I'm not so easily broken."

"You seemed pretty beaten last time I saw you."

"Circumstances change." Natasha said, allowing no emotion to reach her expression.

"Tell me, hows that scar behind your ear healing up?" Rhee asked.

Natasha swallowed, finally seeing her angle, "It's fine," she said, rushing the words.

Rhee saw her hesitation before she spoke. "You haven't even looked at it have you?" Taking her silence as a yes, he continued. "I have many skilled men working for me, but really, Truim was the best at breaking people.

"Not..." Natasha trailed off, implying that the interrogator was Truim.

"Oh yes. Two years ago I found Truim working some scrappy job in Hong Kong; he was pathetic, really, living off the streets. But when I introduced him to the gang, he quickly rose to the top, eventually gained even Rescott's respect. Rescott... now he's a hard man to impress, has high standards he does. Took me two years to gain his trust, and he only trusted me after I pulled him out of a leaking oil rig out in the Pacific."

"Too bad the sharks didn't get you." Natasha commented offhandedly. Really, Rhee wasn't a hard man to read. Already Natasha deduced that he craved respect and dignity and he would do anything to get it, including purposely sabotage an offshore oil rig just so he could prove himself to a man with power.

"Oh, no. It wasn't the sharks we would've had to worry about. No, it was summer and the jellyfish were everywhere. Nasty devils they are." Natasha paused, and in that moment, she knew she made a mistake. "But enough talk about me." Rhee said, pouncing on her silence. "Tell me, are you a spy?" And in that moment, those four words sent her tumbling back into North Korea, seven weeks ago.

 _She landed in a chair, her hands cuffed behind her back. "Are you a spy?"_ _Rhee asked her. Answer," he shouted, backhanding her in the cheek. The inflicted area turned red as the blood rushed to it. "When I ask a question, you answer it." He said, nodding to the interrogator._

 _The interrogator took several moments to select his instrument. After several long, agonizing seconds, he finally chose a syringe._

 _"You have one more chance." Rhee said. Natasha remained silent. The needle pricked her neck and the interrogator emptied its contents into her bloodstream._

 _"That was a special concoction we created here ourselves. In about a minute or so, you'll feel your body relax, but the beauty of it is, you will still feel everything single thing we do to you. Every punch. Every cut. Everything._

 _Mentally counting down, Natasha figured she had about ten extra seconds until the drug took hold of her, considering her enhancers; not that she could really take advantage of the extra time. 72 seconds after being administered the drug, Natasha felt her clenched fists relax. A surge of panic coursed through her. She could barely move her hands. She was absolutely powerless. And this, perhaps, was worse than the sequence of actual blows dealt to her._

 _Natasha watched as the interrogator took a long, serrated knife and slowly cut her abdomen. With difficulty, Natasha closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the pain enveloping her whole midsection. The next blow, an uppercut right over the freshly cut wound, sent her gasping. And then Natasha couldn't help it, an agonized cry escaped her lips as the force of the blow knocked her back, almost falling over. She looked at the boss. He held no remorse, no regret in her eyes._

Natasha gave an unexpected intake of breath, reacting to what had happened in the flashback. Although Rhee's words triggered a flashback, Natasha reasoned that she hadn't been speechless for more than five seconds.

"Why yes, Mr. Rhee. Yes I am." Natasha replied, a renewed anger sparked from the words. "And unfortunately for you I know how to make you hurt." With those words, Natasha punched him. His head whipped to the side. Slowly, Rhee turned back to face her, his lip cut and bleeding. "Maybe you shouldn't have unleashed the real me." She said softly, before dealing him another blow to the head.

"I don't think you'll find it very pleasant for you." She said, taking two fingers and jabbing his jugular. Although it was such a small movement, Rhee doubled over, retching, as if she had punched him in the stomach. "You want to know if I'm a spy?" Natasha said, punching him again, "Well I'll show you and lets see if you can figure it out on your own." Bit by bit, Natasha lost sight of the goal of this interrogation. And bit by bit, with each strike, Natasha gave into her instincts, which told her to eliminate the danger: Rhee. It wasn't until Rhee's face had turned a mottled green and his wrist was broken in two places that Natasha remembered herself. She wouldn't sink to Rhee's level and beat him just because she could. Looking down at his cowering figure, Natasha knew that she may not have had hurt him to the physical extent that he had hurt her, but she had done enough to destroy his ego. And to him, his ego was everything.

"I think you've got your answer." Natasha said, turning on her heel and walking out.

When Natasha entered the monitoring room, where Coulson and several others had been watching her, Coulson appeared to be in a very heated argument with another agent.

"She could have killed him. He could still have answers, but he certainly won't be telling them if he's dead." The agent yelled.

"I know, I know." Coulson said. "But you don't know Agent Romanoff like I do, she won't kill him just because he made her suffer. She won't descend to that barbarity." Both men stood unaware of her presence until she cleared her throat.

"What were you thinking, lashing out like that?" Although she had just seem Coulson avidly defend her, he easily rounded on her. "That was unprofessional and certainly not part of SHIELD's protocol.

"So if you got the chance to punch someone who had tortured you for sixteen days, and continued to torment you weeks after, you wouldn't take it?" Natasha countered. In truth, she didn't feel a shred of remorse for Rhee. He had that coming.

"What you did was understandable, we just weren't sure if you were going to stop. Another minute, and you would have been pulled off."

"Honestly, he deserved it." Natasha said. "But I'm not going to be the one to get so caught up in revenge that I lose myself and revert back to old ways."

Coulson paused, "Did you at least get anything out of him? Besides wheezes and gasps, I mean." He said, changing the subject and brushing aside how Natasha had practically said how four years ago, she would have killed Rhee, given the chance.

"Yeah. There's another influential person, Rescott. I got the impression that Rescott is part like a selective frat house, and Rhee would have done anything to be a part of it. Also, he mentioned how two summers ago he and Rescott were on a leaking oil rig in the Pacific. We could look back on that and find lead, I'm sure there weren't too many leaking oil rigs in the Pacific two years ago. He also let slip that the interrogator's name was Truim."

"That's good," Coulson said. "We'll look into that and see if we dig up anything. But your off the case. We can't risk anything like that happening again. You almost lost control Natasha, we can't afford that to happen again." Natasha nodded. She was actually going to request to be off the case. It was just too close to home. And no matter how much you try to suppress your emotions, they will resurface at some point or another, most likely more strong and blinding than ever.

* * *

"How you doing?" Clint asked. After the interrogation, Natasha had decided to go to Clint's apartment. She had kept her cool through most of the interrogation, but seeing Rhee, talking to him, him triggering her memories, just brought back unwanted emotions.

Natasha gave a noncommittal shrug, falling onto his couch. "Alright. But I never want to go near that man again."

"What happened?"

"I almost lost control Clint." Natasha said. "I just got carried away and consumed by the anger and frustration of the past couple of weeks. I took it out on him. But I almost didn't stop Clint," Natasha said, looking at him. "and somehow that feeling of helplessness washed over me. Like I was a passenger in my own body. Like I was in the Red Room again. It was like some part of me wanted to stop, but I just couldn't make myself. "

"Well you stopped in the end. I think" said Clint, "that one day you will be able to look at him and talk to him without beating him to a pulp. The vindictiveness will go away after time. That doesn't mean what he did to you was any less bad, it just means that you're stronger than he is. Unlike him, you won't resort to killing him because you know that he's really not worth it."

"But it felt like I was back in the Red Room." Natasha whispered.

"You lost control for a few minutes, But four years ago, you would have killed him without a second thought. But now, you've transformed into a stronger person, someone who doesn't need to kill someone who wronged them."

At the word transformation, Natasha subconsciously brought her hand to her ear. Clint was right, she realized; in her past, she had been cold and heartless and killed without a second thought. A truly strong person, Natasha realized, is one who has the capability to hurt another person who deserves it, but chooses not to. And now she would always have a scar engraved into her to remember how much she had transformed.

Three Days Later

She could almost feel her blood pumping adrenaline into her veins. Natasha ducked under another punch and grabbed the man's arm behind his back in a hammer lock. She brought him to his toes, planning to bring him down on his back, but before she could do so, he jabbed her in the ribs. Hard. Mentally, Natasha cursed herself for not checking off. Next time, the blow might be a little less fatal. With renewed vigor, Natasha launched onto the offense. After parrying several blows and kicks, Natasha stepped in closer to the man and hooked his leg and pulled. He fell. Almost before he hit the ground, Natasha made to strike him in the head, but he parried it; barely. The force of the punch carried her to the ground, but she rolled gracefully up.

A series of punches came her way, and Natasha blocked and parried all of them. Natasha pulled back her arm and swiftly aimed a straight punch at the man. The man darted to the side and pulled her momentum forward. Anyone else would have fallen on their face; Natasha however, used to the momentum to do a front walk over, and landed squarely in front of him. The man, having thought he had at least 2 seconds before she was up, didn't see her coming. Natasha advanced and kicked him in the midsection, causing him to double over. Then, she came up beside him and used her other leg to kick out his knees from under him. This sequential movement ultimately caused him to fall as if sitting in a chair. Unfortunately for him, there was no chair. Natasha fell on her side, one leg in front of his hips and the other behind his knees. She scissored her legs and continued his motion of sitting in a chair. The man fell back.

He rolled over his shoulder and onto his stomach. By then, Natasha, who had recovered more quickly, was on top of him. With the palm of her hand, Natasha pressed his face into the ground and with the other hand, she twisted his arm into an arm bar. The man struggled futilely for several seconds before ceasing his efforts and tapping.

"Good work Agent Romanoff." Coulson said, among a group of assessors. "It seems you've made a full physical and mental recovery. You're cleared to go back in the field."

 **And there you have it: the final chapter! I didn't want to make this story too long and drag the resolution on and on, watering down the essence of the story. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it, hopefully I'll start another story soon, I already have an idea ;) Don't forget to review - it means so much to me and it only takes 1o seconds to tell me what you think and how you liked this story :)**


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